22|01|2024
Today was a calmer study day. In the morning I had my monthly therapy session, and when I got home since it was quite late I decided to postpone my studying to the afternoon. I then made a final study to do list for the next two weeks and highlighted some of the notes I had not fixed yet.
calm hobbit winter activities and productivity:
read first thing in the morning
therapy
continued my witched rewatch
planned my studying for the next two weeks
reread and highilighted notes
daily Irish practice on duolingo
listened to the latest episode of the books unbound podcast
cooked for my family
📖: A Day Of Fallen Night by Samantha Shannon
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Counting Sheep
Warnings: Slightly ooc muriel, not being able to fall asleep
Author’s Note: just praying this reaches the target audience also praying for a man like muriel to snatch me up
(Navigation)
The moon is high in the sky by the time you finish your daily tasks. The birds are all silent, the wind has quieted to almost nothing, and the lost souls who wander the beaten paths have all gone home.
You sigh as you crack the door open and notice this. It’s far too late for you to be up.
“Ready for bed, Y/n?” Muriel calls from the corner, drowsiness clear in his voice. Sweet thing, he’s waited up for you, even though you told him many times to just rest.
“Almost. Do you know where my nightie went?” You ask, walking over.
“My shirt? It’s over on the table.” You shoot your lover a smirk and wander over to grab it. Quickly stripping to your undergarments, you throw the shirt on and catch Muriel’s eyes scanning you. He looks away a moment too late, blushing profusely.
You giggle before making your way over to him. “You can look, you know. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.
Muriel’s blush deepens. “I know.” He mumbles, eyes still turned away from you.
“In fact,” you crawl on top of the covers, kneeling above where he lays, “I like it when you look.”
Muriel snorts. He finally turns to you with a tiny smile on his face, opening his arms as an invitation. You’re struck with a sense of pride–it’s taken months for Muriel to get to the point where he’s comfortable with this level of affection, but you’re so glad he’s reached it. Hours of panic attacks, breathing exercises, experimentation, and cautious intimacy are being put to use.
You gladly fall into his arms, a small oomph leaving his lips as you collapse onto his chest. You stifle a laugh, tucking your legs and arms into his embrace. His warmth surrounds you, protecting you from the forest’s cold. You feel safe for the first time in a while.
“Comfortable?” Muriel questions, trying to fight a yawn. His arms come up to loosely wrap around you.
“Yeah. Night,” You kiss his chest, knowing he’ll feel it through the thick fabric of his pajamas.
But you get no response–Muriel is out like a light. And for a couple minutes, it’s peaceful, his heart beating a steady rhythm, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. You press another kiss to his stomach, taking great pleasure in the sharp exhale he releases afterwards. It’s your own version of bliss.
But bliss fades as you become increasingly aware of something digging into your side. You try to ignore it in favor of cuddling into the man below you, but soon it practically forces you to switch positions. You huff, shuffling onto your back to lay besides Muriel. The warmth is now gone, but so is the bother in your side. You sigh, closing your eyes and trying to fall asleep.
It doesn’t work. You fling your arms to the sides, one falling off the bed before you think of the demons under the bed who could steal your hand away. Quickly yanking it back, you cuddle it to your chest, trying to force yourself to rest your eyes and fade away. If you could just hold this position, hearing the faint exhales beside you and the occasional breeze in the forest, you’d be out in no time.
But no, your mind decides this isn’t going to work. You rearrange yourself once again, this time with your back facing Muriel. Your arms and legs come into your chest, forming a sort of ball that better be comfy enough to induce sleep. But there’s none of Muriel’s hands resting on you, the blankets are all tangled up and pressed against you, and now your hands are cold.
For what you hope is the final time, you shift in bed. Your stomach is now against Muriel’s chest, chin resting on your hands as you observe his peaceful expression. How nice it must be to fall asleep in seconds, not concerned about what position will be best for rest or if you’ll wake your partner up in your fight with the blankets.
All of a sudden, Muriel shifts, breath stuttering for a moment before returning to the same steady pattern. You freeze, not wanting to disturb him. The last thing you want to do is wake the poor man up.
It takes a couple seconds to relax your limbs, and in doing that, you realize that you're not that comfortable anymore. You close your eyes in frustration, just wanting the sun to rise so this wretched night can be over. Looking over at the small clock you forced Muriel to install, you groan–it’s only been a few minutes.
You feel like crying. You just want sleep, and the universe seems determined in not affording you that. You shift again to where you started, heading resting on Muriel’s chest and legs tucked in.
You’re disrupted from your pity party by a small laugh coming from your lover. You glance up, noticing that Muriel is awake now, but his eyes are still closed.
“Love, you just completed a full turn around me.” He teases, hand drifting up and down your arm in a comforting motion.
You grumble, turning away from him and onto your back. It’s been hard enough trying to get to sleep, you don’t need his sass as well.
He doesn’t like that, though. His arms come to wrap around you, pulling your back flush against his chest. Like this, you can feel every breath against your neck, every word he whispers against your ear. Your eyes flutter shut as he chuckles.
“Sleep now, love. No more moving around.”
“It doesn’t work like that–on command.” Though you’re already starting to feel a little drowsy.
“Shhh. Sleep time.”
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